So it Begins (Teenlock)
by LittleSoki
Summary: John Watson's life has always been relatively normal. Then one day his crush - Sherlock Holmes - finally notices him and starts to take a peculiar interest in him. Before John even knows what to do, his world and Sherlock's collide and an interesting friendship is made. Though John isn't sure of his new "friend", a bond is created that starts to grows more than he realizes.
1. Chapter 1

"John? Who are you staring at?" Sophie asked. John blinked and looked to his friend.

"What?" He said stupidly.

"John," Sophie laughed, "you've been staring at someone for the last five minutes. Now who is it?" Sophie smiled and scooted closer to John. The two friends were out in the courtyard of their high school during lunch. Almost their entire class was milling around in the grass or around the school. John's eyes glided away from Sophie's and back to the person in question.

"There are at least five people I think you're staring at, John. Help me narrow it down here!" Sophie poked John's shoulder lightly and took a bite of her sandwich.

"He's in our grade."

"He? And an eleventh grader.. That leaves two. But, he?" Sophie bit her sandwich again and John bit the inside of his lip.

"Yeah.." He sighed. Well, at least it was Sophie.

"Remind me to talk to you about that later. And please tell me it isn't that boy with the black curls," Sophie practically begged and John turned to look at her.

"Why not?"

"He sits next to us in a few classes remember? You hear it when he talks, don't you?"

"I hear him."

"But do you listen? Like, to what he says. Not his voice," Sophie giggled and John glared at her.

"I do... Sometimes," John blushed a little and kept watching the boy. The boy John was watching was sitting under a shaded tree with his long legs stretched out in front of him and his back was pressed against the trunk. He had his long, elegant fingers bridged under his chin in an almost of a prayer position and his eyes were closed. John knew he was thinking; it was usually the pose he took to when he was.

"Well, he's a little prick," Sophie broke John's thoughts with her nasty comment.

"What?"

"Listen next time, he corrects everyone and is very nasty about it," Sophie took a bite of her sandwich and glared at the boy. "What's his name?" Sophie asked when John didn't answer after a while.

"You don't know?"

"Oh, I know. But do you?"

"Yes, why wouldn't I?" John took a gulp of his water and glared at Sophie.

"I don't know. So, what is it?"

"Sherlock."

John sat in biology class and attempted to pay closer attention to Sherlock. Sherlock sat next to John in the class and because of the way the desks were set up, the two of them were partners. John didn't mind it but since they were doing a lab that day, he was wary. It was the first lab of the semester and John couldn't help but feel excited and nervous at the same time.

They were going to be dissecting but the teacher hadn't told them what exactly. Well, why not ask Sherlock what he thought?

"What do you think we'll be dissect-"

"Pigs."

"What?"

"You heard me," Sherlock didn't even look at John as be scribbled notes in his book. John felt wounded. So this is what Sophie meant when she said he was prick, he thought warily.

"And how do you know that? She hasn't even told us," John prodded.

"Because, I mean look at her," Sherlock sighed as he kept writing.

"You're not even looking at her."

"So? Just watch. She has that smug little look on her face because she knows that half the class is vegan and will flip. Her eyes keep flicking to the closet over there were they are and under her nails are small parts of pink skin, too pink to be human. She absolutely reeks of formalin and alcohol rub so the animal must be big. She is wearing too much perfume for today and is trying to hide the smell and underlying odor of pig. Now, does that explain it?" Sherlock glanced at John from under his curls and John stuttered.

"And you got all of that from looking at her?"

"When I first walked in."

"Amazing," John breathed and Sherlock's head jerked up and he stared at John.

"What?" There was clear shock in his eyes.

"I- I said amazing," John bit his lip as a very small smile tugged up at the corners of Sherlock's lips.

"No one has ever said that before."

"What do they usually say?"

"'Piss off'," Sherlock smiled a little more and it made John smile back and laugh.

"You annoy people that much?" John couldn't help but laugh and he could feel the eyes of other students on them.

"Hm. No one has told you?"

"No, my friend has. Just didn't believe it," John tried to calm his laughter.

"You've been sitting next to me in three classes for almost an entire semester and you have never heard me say anything like that before?" Sherlock kept the little smile on his face.

"Well, I guess it just didn't click in my head," John admitted and Sherlock suddenly jerked his head to watch the teacher.

"Shh, she's going to tell us. Watch, I'm right," An excited gleam shone bright in Sherlock's eyes. His bright... Beautiful blue eyes... John shook his head. He had to stop thinking like that so he turned his attention to the teacher.

"As you know class," she began, "We will be dissecting today. Does anyone know what it will be?" She smirked and the class yelled out different answers and John kicked Sherlock as he began to speak. "Don't say anything," John whispered and Sherlock actually listened. The teacher continued to hear the students answers and John let himself look at Sophie who was a few rows across from him. Sophie was watching him with an amused smug look and John stuck his tongue out at her. She just laughed.

"And..." Sherlock leaned forward in anticipation and John turned his attention back to him. This was probably the most they'd ever talked, John realized and he liked it.

"All very good guesses but all wrong. Anyone want to take another guess?" John kicked Sherlock under the table again, "No? Ok! Today's dissection will be... A pig!" She clapped her hands together and Sherlock leaned back with a smirk. Some girls in the class screamed and some yelled that they were vegans and would refuse to dissect one of their pig friends. John stared at Sherlock again.

"You were right. But, how?" John shook his head.

"I just looked at her. It seems as if you look, John, but don't see," Sherlock said and John realized that if he didn't think about too hard, it'd make sense. The teacher passed out the pigs strapped down to their own silver plates and a set of instruments to each pair of partners. Sherlock took the instruments before John could. "You could just write if you want," Sherlock suggested but John took the instruments from Sherlock. "No, you can write. I want to dissect, actually," John felt his cheeks slowly grow warm and turned to the pig. He slid on the latex gloves the teacher also gave them and, without listening to the teacher's instructions, cut a smooth and even line down the pig's stomach. He then cut the line up on its chest in two directions so the cut looked like a Y. Sherlock just stared.

"What?" John said as he put the knife down and looked at Sherlock.

"That was perfect. And you didn't even listen to the teacher," Sherlock's brows furrowed. "What? Can't read me?" John smirked and Sherlock shook his head.

"You read medical books and watch any show about it you can on the telly. But, no one in your family is a doctor," Sherlock watched John to see if he was right.

"You're right. I want to be in the military."

"A military doctor? That'll put you in some danger," Sherlock mused as John opened the pig. Sherlock picked up his notebook and pen and began to scribble notes into it about the pig, the teacher completely forgotten.

"I'll be fine," John muttered as he began to poke around in the pig and told Sherlock what to write down. Within twenty minutes, they were done with their assignment. "Should we turn it in?" John asked and Sherlock shook his head. "Why don't I help you?" Sherlock leaned over the pig, very close to John and grabbed one of the pig's legs.

"With wha-" John began but cut off at the sound of Sherlock breaking the pig's leg. A couple girls around them cried out at them but they paid no attention.

"I made sure it wasn't a clean break. Set it," Sherlock leaned back and let John look at the break. He furrowed his brows and glared at Sherlock. It sure was a messy break, the bone even stuck out of the skin. John twitched his lips and went to the teacher to get some gauze and returned.

He then looked at the bone and set to work. But, much to his annoyance, felt Sherlock's eyes on him the entire time. When he finally finished, he turned to Sherlock.

"There," John said happily and wiped his arm across his forehead to get rid of the sweat.

"Good job," Sherlock smiled and John smiled back.

"So, we have at least thirty minutes left. What should we do?" John couldn't believe he and Sherlock were talking this much. They had sat next to each other in three classes for almost an entire semester and they had barely even said 'hello'.

"Not sure. Do you have any thread? Or a needle?"

"No, and I doubt the teacher does. I'm not going to sew the pig back up," John rolled his eyes and watched the clock. Only two more classes to go and they just so happened to be with Sherlock. "Oh come on. It'd be fun," Sherlock picked up the knife and poked the pig. John sighed and took the knife from him. He then opened his notebook and began writing his own version of the notes. He worked slow, now afraid of talking to Sherlock and worked out a plan in his mind to slip away the moment the bell rant and hurry to tell Sophie everything. It took John about ten minutes to decipher Sherlock's scribble and another five on top of that to realize he was still wearing the gloves. John felt his face get warm as he removed them and slapped them down on the table.

"I have some books," Sherlock finally said after a few more minutes if silence.

"What?""I have some medical books if you want them," Sherlock began to pack up as the class was almost over.

"Oh, really? You don't mind?" "No. Here. Come by today," Sherlock handed John a folded up piece of paper and pressed it into John's hand.

"Oh, uhm-" John stuttered but before he could say anything else, the bell rang and Sherlock hurried away. John sat there in pure shock.

"What was that?" Sophie cried as she ran over to John's table.

"I don't know..." "I told you he was a prick."

"He's not that bad," John gathered up all his books and walked side by side with Sophie. "Going to have fun in English?" Sophie nudged John playfully as they stood in the hallway, talking before they parted ways.

"What's that in your hand?" Sophie finally noticed the small piece of folded up paper.

"Oh, uhm," John unfolded the paper. It was Sherlock's obvious scribble that looked like a phone number and an address.

"No way," Sophie gasped as she took the paper from him.

"I guess so," John took the paper back and stuffed it into his jean pocket.

"Well, to to class. I heard the teacher isn't here so it's a free period for me. You?"

"Same here, text ya later," Sophie hugged John and turned down the hall as John opened the door to his class and walked in. Low and behold , Sherlock was there in his seat. Right next to John's. Sherlock was doing something on his phone; one hand typing on his phone while the other drummed on the table. John sat next to him and watching Sherlock for a second.

"What are you doing?" He finally asked and Sherlock sighed.

"Just researching," he clicked his phone off and pocketed it.

"For what class?"

"No class, just myself," Sherlock eyes the piece of paper John was still clutching in his hand.

"Are you coming over?"

"What?"

"The paper."

"Oh," John realized he had been holding it. It was odd. He was finally able to talk to Sherlock and now he was going to his house. Or was he? John's eye brows furrowed as he began to think and Sherlock tapped his foot as he waited.

"John?" Sherlock tried to keep his voice from sounding too harsh but John could tell he was annoyed that he was taking a long time to answer.

"Why not?"

A few hours later, John was trailing behind Sherlock and his brother, Mycroft, as they went home. Sherlock seems to have a very unique relationship with his brother, John thought as he watched Mycroft talk nonstop about school while Sherlock had his hands in his pant pockets and eyes turned up to watch the sky. His dark black curls fell into his eyes and showed the sharp contrast between them and his eye colour. John shook his head again. He had to stop himself before he thought about his cheekbones or his lips...

"John?" Mycroft's voice cut into John's thoughts. Mycroft was an odd character but John had only heard about him. Unlike Sherlock, John didn't have any classes with him but Sophie did. She said he was smart like Sherlock but didn't have the same sharp attitude and coldness to him. He did seem rather stiff but friendly, once he got taking.

"What?"

"Your blushing. Are you getting too cold?" Mycroft watched John from next to Sherlock as they walked three across. Sherlock was in the middle.

"What? Oh no, I'm fine," John shrugged and he could've sworn he saw Sherlock smirk.

"What's with that look?" Mycroft glared at Sherlock. Apparently he hadn't been imagining it.

"Hm? What look?" Sherlock's smirk grew a little and it seemed to infuriate Mycroft. But before Mycroft could say anything, Sherlock grabbed John's arm and started to run towards a house at the end of the street. It took John to realize two things. First, his feet were actually keeping up with Sherlock and second, he realized that the trio had been walking for almost an hour and he had just realized it. What had happened to me? John wondered as the answer hit him as quickly as he thought of the question. Sherlock. Sherlock had happened.

"Hurry John!" Sherlock cried as he ran faster and John stumbled. John managed to catch Sherlock's sleeve and used that to steady himself as he hurried after Sherlock. When they got to the right house, Sherlock ran up the stairs and swung the door open. He reached back and grabbed John and shoved him inside.

"Go," Sherlock breathed into John's ear as he pushed John up the stairs. John didn't get much of a look at the house mostly because Sherlock wouldn't let him. Before John could even blink, Sherlock threw John into his room and shut the door.

"My family in insufferable..." Sherlock sighed and leaned against the door.

"Is that why you don't want me to meet them?" John asked as he looked around Sherlock's room. It was a very simply, good sized room with dark blue walls and wooden floors. The bed itself was a twin with white sheets pulled tight over it and shoved in one corner. It looked like it was barely slept in at all. At the foot of the bed was a desk with a laptop sitting in it and a chair. John looked away before he could see what was on the screen. On the wall opposite the door was a giant bookshelf with loads if odds and ends along with the books and John stuttered as he saw a skull staring back at him.

"Sh- Sherlock?" John backed away, one hand reaching behind him to grab Sherlock.

"Meet Skully. He won't bite," Sherlock replied from beside the bed. John didn't even know he moved but now he held an elegant violin in one hand and a bow in the other.

"You play?" John asked and as a response, Sherlock rested the violin under his chin, closed his eyes and began to play. The song was sort of sad but mesmerizing. John wasn't sure what fascinates him more; Sherlock playing or how the music moved. It took John about a minute to be able to look away and check out the other wall. When he did, he froze. On the farthest wall was a map of London that took up it up entirely. On top of the map were newspaper clippings and pictures and sticky notes by the dozens.

"Sherlock? What is all this? Is, is that the swimming kid who died a few weeks ago?" John walked up to look at the picture of a healthy looking boy pinned up on the map.

"Yes," Sherlock finished the song and whipped the now down.

"Why is all this here?" John turned to look at Sherlock. He still had his eyes closed and violin resting on his chin.

"Something isn't right about it."

"Sherlock, the kid had an attack in the pool and he drowned," John sighed.

"He was a healthy swimmer, John, doesn't that seem at least a little strange?" Sherlock glared. John looked away and watched the map again.

"I guess," John mumbled under his breath.

"Here are the books," Sherlock, once again, had moved silently to the bookshelf and was pulling three good sized books from the shelf. At first, John just stared at them with a little but of fear and then interest. He took the books from Sherlock and went to go sit on the edge of the bed. Sherlock let him sit and John could feel his eyes on him.

"These are really good books, where did you get them?" John out two of the three books next to him on the bed and held the other in his lap.

"Bought them."

"They're college books."

"And?" Sherlock raised one eyebrow and John rolled his eyes. "Nevermind," John opened the book and began flipping through it. Sherlock raised his now again and began to play. The song was the same and John was growing very fond of it. Before John could finish the first two chapters of the book, the bell downstairs rolled five times.

"What?" John jerked his head out of the book and stared at Sherlock's door, as if he could see the clock downstairs through it.

"It's five," Sherlock let his arm dangle down by his side with the bow in it.

"Yeah I know that but honestly, I've been here an hour?"

"Yes," John turned to Sherlock and his breath caught in his throat.

A thin layer of sweat covered Sherlock's forehead and his chest rose and fell a little bit too fast. "Have you been playing this entire time?" John eyed the violin still perched under Sherlock's chin.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"You ask a lot of questions," Sherlock sounded tired and John just looked down. He felt bad that Sherlock had been playing for so long but really couldn't do anything about it. Before he could at least try to say something, his phone buzzed. John jumped and reached into his back pocket.

"Oh crap..." John sighed. It was his sister, Harry.

'Where are you?' the message said and John bit his lip.

'At a friend's house.'

'Sophie?'

'Be home soon,' John clicked his phone closed and sighed. At least he wasn't lying to her but he was sure going to get it when he got home.

"I should go, Harry's wondering where I am," John stood up and left the books on the bed.

"You can take one. Just promise to come back to get the others," Sherlock watched his violin on his shoulder.

"When?"

"Just, come by tomorrow," Sherlock sighed and John stared. "Tomorrow?"

"Yes," Sherlock set his violin down. John was slightly confused but held the book tightly to his chest and followed Sherlock out the door. Even though they were going slow his time, John still didn't look around and watched Sherlock's heels. They didn't see anyone as they walked and when they got to the door, Sherlock turned to John.

"Thanks for letting me stay," John said.

For almost the first time, John realized he was almost a head shorter than Sherlock.

"Of course," Sherlock's voice seemed tense.

"Are you ok?"

"Fine. Do you know how to get home?"

"The tube is only half a mile north of here, right?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll be fine. Thanks again," John said as he started for the door. He got one foot out before Sherlock leaned close and pecked him on the cheek.


	2. Chapter 2

John ran home. He ran as fast as he could and refused to look at Sherlock as he went out the door. Even in the tube, John could not sit still and he taped his fingers on his leg as it bounced up and down. When he was finally home, it was almost six. He tried to unlock the door but his hand was shaking so bad that he couldn't get the key in the lock. He cursed and tried again, finally getting into his house. John collapsed as he shut the door and slumped against it, his mind racing.

"John?!" A voice called from the kitchen. It was slightly slurred and John could smell the sharp scent of cigar smoke. He didn't even move. He didn't care. John ran his hands through his hair and tried to calm with heart and breathing. It couldn't have happened. Sherlock couldn't have kissed him; even if it was on the cheek.

"Johnny?" A girl squat in front of him and poked his arm. She smelled of alcohol and smoke. "Harry go away," John snapped. "Why are you smoking and drinking anyway? It's dangerous."

"Oh hush. Why are you flipping the hell out?"

"Harry stop it. Leave me alone and put that smoke out," John curled up a little bit more and put his head between his knees.

"Tell me."

"Put it out," John snapped and he suddenly sat up and ran for his room.

"You didn't go to Sophie's! You wouldn't be acting like this is you went to her house!" Harry yelled after John as he locked himself in his room. He had to call Sophie.

When John got to school the next day, he realized two things. First, Sherlock was sitting under his normal shaded tree thinking and second, he had the violin song stuck in his head. John sighed and looked around for Sophie but she was no where to be seen. He hopped up on the table the two would sit on anytime they were allowed to be outside and texted her.

'Sorry, goin 2 b late. B careful,' her text said. John sighed and pocketed his phone. When he looked back to the tree, Sherlock was gone. John momentarily panicked and gripped the book in his lap then frowned. He still had the book Sherlock gave him in his lap.

"How are you doing?" Sherlock suddenly materialized next to him. "What?" John stuttered, his cheeks slowly growing warm.

"The book. How are you doing on it?"

"Oh, right. It's good," John drummed his fingers on it and watched Sherlock. He seemed very normal and was acting as if what had happened between them the night before never occurred. So, John thought, if he's acting like it didn't happen, I should too.

"Am I still coming over today to get the other one?" John held his breath as he waited for an answer. The question seemed to catch Sherlock of guard but he quickly recovered.

"If you want. We should ditch my brother though, he annoys me."

"He's your brother."

"Your point? We'll take the tube to my place and save time. He'll still get home. He'll be fine," Sherlock added as he saw John's eyebrows go up in disbelief. Then John laughed and it felt good, which shocked him. The night before he had been on the verge of a mental breakdown with Harry banging on his door and shouting at him to open up and tell her what happened. Of course that didn't happen. Sherlock watched John with puzzlement for a second and then a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. John looked down at the book cover as the memory of those lips on his cheek flashed in his mind, his laughter fading.

"John?" Sherlock asked as he took a step closer, almost in John's personal space.

"I'm fine," John brushed it off and smiled up at Sherlock again. John could tell Sherlock didn't really want to drop it but the taller boy shrugged.

"Sherlock," John dropped his voice a little and bit his lip.

"Yes, John?"

"What was the name of that violin song you played?" John still bit his lip and blushed a little more. He was reluctant to ask since it had happened last night, when Sherlock had kissed his cheek...

"Brothers. It's from this show that I don't like - shows are childish - but the song sounds nice on the violin," Sherlock said causally and John was surprised.

"I like it. It's soothing," John said absently as his mind replayed Sherlock playing the song over and over.

"I'll play it when you come over. And a few more, if you want," Sherlock seemed to be getting uncomfortable and that unnerved John. Sherlock was never uncomfortably. At least, he never seemed to be.

"I'd love that," John smiled and Sherlock actually smiled back.

The day went by slowly and at lunch, John caught Sophie up on all that happened.

"You're kidding! He actually-"

"Sophie! Shut up!" John hissed and smacked her arm gently. Sophie ate a chip and stared at Sherlock from across their spot on the table.

"I already told you last night," John sighed and bit his lip.

"So? I didn't believe it. Well, not until I saw your face. I know you're not lying," Sophie sat back on her arms.

"Yeah. And I'm going back tonight," John tried to say casually but his shaking hands gave him away.

"Why? You're shaking."

"To get the next book," John brushed off her talking about his hands.

"How can you finish those books? They put me to sleep!" Sophie laughed and it made John feel better to hear her laughing. It eased all the tension and soon Sophie was going on and on about some guy in her English class. John zoned out and simply nodded and mumbled to make it seem to Sophie that he was listening. He was actually staring at Sherlock. Energy buzzed through him as he thought of what might happen at Sherlock. He chuckling in his head. First he was scared crapless about just seeing Sherlock and now he couldn't wait to go back to his house. Strange. The bell rang about five minutes later and John happily jumped up and all but skipped to Bio.

"Someone's happy," Sophie teased.

"Shut up. I'm actually excited now," John smiled and Sophie laughed.

"New interest?" Sophie teased and John made a face at her.

"No."

"But he kissed you," Sophie pointed out as the two walked into the class.

"So?"

"And you're not freaking now. You don't mind at all and in fact, I think you want him to do it again," Sophie sat at her table and John followed, eyeing Sherlock across the room.

"Since when did you become Sherlock?" John smiled and went to go sit next to Sherlock before Sophie could say some witty comeback. The rest of the day passed rather slowly and John couldn't help to be restless.

"John, stop fidgeting," Sherlock chided in Math class.

"It's the last class of the day and it's Friday. How can I not be excited?" John replied and tried to stop his fingers from drumming on the table.

"Have all your books?" Sherlock asked as the entire class watched the last minute of the school day tick by on the clock.

"Yes, why?"

"Get ready to run."

"Ditching Mycroft?"

"Of course," Sherlock mumbled and he grabbed his backpack. John grabbed his and Sherlock's medical book and prepared to sprint out the door. The bell rang and together, he and Sherlock took off running as fast as they could. It was a little hard but before they knew it, they were sitting in the tube and panting hard.

"Good job," Sherlock gasped as John laughed.

"That was, what, about ten minutes?"

"Just about."

"Yeah. That was good," John laughed again and sat back in the seat. Suddenly, he stopped laughing. Something just felt, weird. Different. Then, he realized it. The kiss had come back into his mind.

"Can I ask you something?" John whispered and Sherlock nodded. John gulped hard and bit the inside of his cheek.

"Why did you kiss me," it was more of an accusation than a question and John's face burned red as he watched his feet. Sherlock didn't answer for a while and the sway of the car was starting to feel as if it was becoming too much for John. He was starting to feel very sick. "John," Sherlock finally said but the intercom person cut him off, telling them it was their stop. "We'll finish this at my house," Sherlock sighed and John followed, head still down. When they got to Sherlock's home, John still couldn't look at Sherlock or his house. He was so scared of what would happen and questioned why he was even still there. Sherlock closed and locked his door as John placed the book back on the shelf. He sat down on the bed silently and Sherlock laid down on it next to him. He bridged his fingers under his chin and closed his eyes. For a few minutes that's all he did and it was starting to drive John crazy. Just as John was about to scream, Sherlock sighed.

"Isn't it obvious?"

"What?" John was so startled he thought he was just imagining it.

"You heard me. Think John. Why else would anyone kiss someone else?" Sherlock kept his eyes closed as John thought. It was so obvious yet, at the same time, John couldn't believe it. It was too simple.

"But you're Sherlock."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Sherlock sighed and sat up, staring at John.

"Well, you're just Sherlock. You don't seem-"

"Capable of any emotions? Or, more specifically, love?"

"Yes," John bit his lip again and willed himself to keep looking at Sherlock. He couldn't back down. Not now.

"You are so wrong, John," Sherlock whispered and just the way he said it sent shivers down John's spine. Before John could say something in response, Sherlock leaned forward and pressed his lips gently to John's. John completely shut down. He couldn't think or breathe and completely forgot how to function altogether. The kiss was as light as air and just barely a few seconds long but it affected John so much more than Sherlock saw. When the two locked eyes again, John was blushing furiously. His mind was whirling so fast that it made him dizzy. Good thing he was sitting already. Yet, somewhere in his mind, a little voice was screaming 'more!'

"I told you," Sherlock seemed to be a little out of breath but John couldn't really tell. He was still trying to ease his. Slowly, John came out of his haze and leaned closer to Sherlock. He pressed their foreheads together and tried to hold himself back.

"I still don't believe you. That wasn't anything."

"Oh?" Sherlock raised a perfect eyebrow and this time, he leaned close and placed a hand at the nape of John's neck.

"Then let me show you, again," Sherlock whispered and pulled John to him, closing the few inches that separated their lips. John had to hold back a moan as he finally was able to really kiss Sherlock, the boy he had had a crush on since he first saw him. He wrapped his arms around Sherlock's neck and moved his lips against Sherlock's. Sherlock did the same as his other hand moved to the small of John's back, pulling him closer. John happily eased into Sherlock's lap and Sherlock leaned back on the bed, taking John with him until the two were laying on top of each other. John was the first to pull away.

"Sherlock," he gasped as Sherlock smirked, cheeks flushed and eyes bright.

"What did I tell you? Now, it's Friday, correct?"

"You already know it is," John smiled.

"So, can you stay the night?"

"Sherlock!" John was completely shocked. He shifted on top of Sherlock and slowly felt uncomfortable. They were too close. Their bodies too warm together and their hips... Lord their hips! John tried to focus and not think about it all and failed horribly.

"Sherlock, don't you think it's too soon?"

"No."

"And what will we tell our parents?"

"Big class project. Worth more than half our grade," Sherlock smiled and John rolled his eyes.

"It might work. That, or you're a crazy psychopath."

"I'm a high functioning sociopath," Sherlock smiled and kissed John on the nose.

"I still think it's a bit fast. Even if we don't do anything," John bit his lip and looked away from Sherlock. Sherlock sat up on his elbows and watched John.

"Then, stay as late as you possible can and we'll talk. I'll even play for you," Sherlock eyes his violin at the foot of the bed.

"Really?"

"Yes, really John," John thought for a few seconds and bit his lip even more. Finally, he made up his mind. If Harry could stay out all night, every night and go crazy, why couldn't he? Just this once.

"Then I'll stay. Just promise one thing."

"Yes?"

"If I fall asleep, don't wake me up."


	3. Chapter 3

John woke up the next morning with a soft pounding in his ear. It was low and steady, almost like a clock but without the mechanical whirl. There was also the presence of heat wrapped around him; even more heat than any normal blanket should have given off. With a start, John remembered where he was. His eyes burst open and he had to bite his cheek to prevent himself from crying out. Barely even a few inches away from his nose was Sherlock. After John calmed down, he sat up and looked down at the sleeping genius. The contours of his cheekbones combined with the morning sunlight that streamed through the curtains casted shadows that made his features look even sharper. Yet, at the same time, the orange glow softened his face and set his dark hair alight. Both the boys had fallen asleep fully clothed and the covers had slipped down to Sherlock's waist, tangling in his legs. What a blanket hog, John thought with a smile.

"John," Sherlock mumbled in his sleep and curled in on himself a little bit; searching for John's now absent warmth among the bed. John hugged his knees and stared in a stunned silence. Had Sherlock really just said his name in his sleep? Or maybe John was still dreaming. That was it. All of this - the kiss, Sherlock, this moment - was some delusion his mind had made up. Maybe he was in a coma in some hospital and none of this was real. Just as John actually started to believe it, Sherlock blinked and opened eyes.

"John," he whispered again and sat up. With a smile, Sherlock leaned in and pecked John's cheek softly.

"Is this a dream?" John asked before he could stop himself. Sherlock shook his head.

"Thankfully not. If it is, I don't want to wake up."

"I still can't believe that you-" John stopped. He couldn't find the right words. Sherlock had opened up to him in a way John could have never imagined. But where would it go from here? Sherlock eyed him carefully and John knew he was calculating something. In less than a minute, Sherlock's eyes slid half closed as he figured out what John meant.

"It's shocking to me too. But I can't change the way I feel so why not accept it?"

"You could always fight it. You seem to do that with a lot of your emotions," John said without thinking. He never seemed to think before he spoke around Sherlock. Everything just slipped out and he spoke his mind truthfully. In a way, it felt right. But on the other hand, John could see how being like that could take a sharp turn for the worst.

"But that would hurt you. Wouldn't it?" Sherlock spoke softly and John nodded. A small smile tugged at the edge of Sherlock's lips.

"Are you hungry, John?"

"You can cook?"

"I can make some tea and my mom can make some scones too," John blanched.

"Mom?" He repeated. Sherlock gave him a quizzical look.

"Yes, I have a mother, John."

"What will she say when she sees me? And Mycroft?" John's eyes widened and Sherlock simply leaned forward and kissed him. It was a small peck but it calmed John down and Sherlock knew it.

"Like we said last night; there's a big project that's worth half our grade and we fell asleep working on it."

"Right," John said breathlessly. He looked at Sherlock for a long time before he spoke.

"Do it again," the words were barely above a whisper but Sherlock heard them. He smiled a little more and once again kissed John. A jolt of sweet electricity shot down John's spine and he closed his eyes, leaning into the kiss. Sherlock slid his arms around John's waist and pulled him close, the familiar warmth of Sherlock's body spreading through him. With a soft sigh, Sherlock ran a hand through John's hair and tugged softly. The action made John gasp a little and Sherlock took full advantage of the situation. He slipped his tongue carefully into John's mouth and waited. After a moment of shock, John wrapped his arms around Sherlock's neck and pressed their tongues together. The electricity that struck John almost took all his breath away. Well, what little breath he had left from kissing Sherlock so fiercely. It was unlike anything John had ever experienced and he was addicted to it. He had never really kissed anyone before let alone a guy. He also had a hard time believing Sherlock had kissed anyone either which left John baffled. How could someone kiss this well without experience?

"Sherlock?" John gasped out as they broke apart and Sherlock pressed his lips to John's neck, gently nipping at it. John gasped again and gripped Sherlock's hair a little too tight. He didn't seem to mind though.

"Yes?" Sherlock said between his bites.

"H-have you ever kissed anyone before?" John's voice shook and he tried - unsuccessfully - to steady it. Sherlock hummed against John's neck and the vibration made him squirm.

"No, I haven't. Why?" Sherlock finally lifted himself away and looked in John's eyes.

"Well it's just- you uhm," John fumbled over his words as his cheeks flared.

"I'm just doing what feels natural, John," Sherlock smiled and John completely melted. There was something about the way his eyes lit up when he smiled that left John feeling weak in the knees. John just nodded a little and Sherlock kissed him once again. This time though, he pinned John to the bed and slid his hand up the back of John's shirt. His long, violinist fingers spread out over the small of his back and left tendrils of fire in their wake. Sherlock broke away breathing hard, kept eye contact with John, and started testing boundaries. He slid his elegant fingers up the ridges of John's spine; pressed their hips together tightly; licked a very sensitive part of John's neck; and even pulled John's shirt up to look at him more clearly. Throughout the entire process - except when he looked down at John's body - Sherlock didn't break eye contact. There was something about the way he looked at him that made John feel as if Sherlock, even as his fingers hungrily moved over John's body, was handling a delicate object he kept dear to him. Was John really that special to him? He could hardly even think properly now that Sherlock had stripped him of his shirt and was running his hands dangerously close to the hem of his pants-

"Sherlock?" A voice called from outside the door. The moment instantly dissolved and Sherlock's eyes lost their gentleness.

"Mycroft for God's sake, unless the house is burning down, leave me alone!" Sherlock practically hissed the last three words out. John's eyes, which had become half lidded, snapped completely open as he jumped.

"Fine! Don't get food then!" Mycroft huffed and his muffled footsteps echoed down the hall as he walked away. Sherlock groaned and let his head fall against John's chest. His soft, black ringlets tickled John's bare skin.

"It's ok," he whispered as he ran his fingers through the soft mane of hair before him.

"I really wish he hadn't done that."

"Well, neither do I but he did. Food actually sounds really good right now," John smiled and Sherlock looked up at him.

"And later, when we are done, I could play something for you," Sherlock suggested. John couldn't help but beam.

"That sounds perfect."

John tugged his shirt back on and followed Sherlock downstairs. A steaming plate of scones was left on the table for them and Mycroft was already digging in.

"John? When did you get here?" He asked through a mouthful of scone.

"I've been here all night. We uh, there's a project worth half our grade we had to work on," John tries to say as casually as he could as Sherlock walked away to make tea.

"For what teacher? We have almost the same classes," Mycroft eyed John suspiciously but Sherlock came over and quickly covered him.

"It's for biology. We have different teachers, remember?" Sherlock set three mugs of fresh tea on the counter and glared at Mycroft. Mycroft just pursed his lips and took the mug, eyeing the pair suspiciously but didn't say another word. John let out the breath he wasn't aware he was holding and inhaled the sweet scent of tea and fresh scones. The warm aroma of breakfast eased John and put him more at ease. After a few minutes of silence, Mycroft excused himself and left John alone with Sherlock. A few weeks ago, the thought of being alone with Sherlock would've paralyzed John in an odd mixture of shock and horror but now he looked forward to it. Almost as if to read his mind, Sherlock set his mug down and turned to him, his small signature smile turned his lips upwards and John found himself smiling back.

"Would you like to hear me play for you?" Sherlock tilted his head to the side a little; the action making him look more like a small puppy. John smiled even more and nodded.

"Yes," he said as Sherlock took his hand and led him back up to the bedroom. John's heart pounded in his chest as the pair made their way up the stairs and suddenly a thought hit him.

"Harry," he gasped and pushed past Sherlock. He ran for Sherlock's room and began frantically looking for his phone.

"Sherlock have you seen my-" John asked as he heard Sherlock enter but froze as Sherlock tapped his back with something.

"Your phone? It was right on the bed," John took it gratefully and clicked it on. Ten missed calls.

"Oh no," John groaned and let his head fall against the cool screen.

"From your mom, Harry, and oh, Sophie?" Sherlock peered over John's shoulder and looked at the screen.

"Yeah," John grumbled and silently pocketed his phone. Sherlock pursed his lips as his eyes analyzed.

"They're probably just worried. I wouldn't think too much about it."

"Sherlock I-"

"Listen, John, I know this is the first time you've snuck out but what's the worse they can do? And like we've said - multiple times - you did it for a school project."

"I know but, I just don't like lying to them. Especially Harry. She's always been with me through everything," John sighed and clicked his phone on. Sherlock continued watching expectantly over his shoulder. John eyed him. He hated it when people looked over his shoulder at his phone.

"Do they know?" Sherlock whispered.

"About?"

"You. Me. Us," Sherlock said each word simply enough but the impact of them hit John like a ton of bricks. Would he really tell his family everything? It seems like such a far-fetched thought but it scared John enough to make him hyperventilate a little. Sherlock took John's face in his hands and brushed his long thumb over John's cheek.

"You don't have to. I was just saying a fact." After a long silence passed, it was John who spoke.

"I'm going to tell them. I'm going to tell them everything," John nodded his head as if to affirm what he had just spoken. Sherlock's eyes widened.

"John-"

"I'm sure. I'm absolutely terrified, don't doubt that, but, I don't wanna lie. I don't want to keep any secrets," John bit his lip and Sherlock kissed his nose.

"Stay for a while. Let me play you something and we'll get some tea after."

"And then I'll go home," John left the rest of the sentence hanging in the air.

While Sherlock played a song - that should've been performed by a quartet - perfect as always, John texted Sophie.

'Im coming out.'

'I want the world to know~! Wait... U're serious?' She replied quickly.

'I dont wanna hide Soph.' John bit his thumbnail and glanced up at Sherlock. He pulled a sweet drone from the violin then started up with the chorus again.

'Im here if you need me!' She texted. Then, a second later, added:

'GAY PRIDE!' John rolled his eyes and smiled.

'Thanks. I can crash at ur place for a bit if they reject me?' John asked cautiously.

'Of course silly! Itd b cray if I turned u away 2!' John, again, smirked at her texting lingo. It was so silly sometimes.

'Thanks.'

'So how is ur man? ;)'

'Sophie!'

'Its a serious question!' She defended. John sighed and quickly gave her a quick summary of what all had happened. After about a minute of typing, John finally tuned in to what Sherlock was playing. The song had changed but this one John recognized almost instantly.

"BBC, Sherlock? Is- is that Doctor Who?" John stared.

"It's hard to play with only one violin but yes," Sherlock panted; his bow flying across the strings.

"The past two songs-"

"This is Gallifrey and now I am the Doctor," Sherlock pursed his lips and John fell silent. It must be hard to play such a hard song and talk at the same time. He turned his attention back to his phone. After he told Sophie everything and she had her squeal-fest, John clicked his phone off and turned his attention to Sherlock who had changed songs again. The song he first played for John. He smiled at that. He felt like that the song somehow held the secret story of the two of them and therefor was very special. John scooted over to the foot of the bed where Sherlock stood playing and hesitantly reached up to play with the curls that fell on his forehead. Sherlock opened his eyes a little bit and gazed at John with a clouded expression. He really got into the music, John thought. After what felt like forever, Sherlock finally played the final note and wiped the bow down to his side. Small beads of sweat gathered at his temples and John brushed them away. With his eyes now fully open and violin placed back in it's stand, Sherlock turned to John. Emotions danced through his eyes. Exhaustion. Happiness. Curiosity. Even lust. They all flashed so quick that John almost missed them and soon Sherlock's carefully built shields were back in place. Only one emotion remained. Love. John had to resist rolling his eyes at the sappiness of the situation but at the same time he found it cute. No one had ever looked at him that way before. Before John could even open his mouth to say anything, Sherlock had him pinned to the bed with his hands above his head.

"We have the whole day, John. Go back home later tonight. Please," the need in Sherlock's voice was overwhelming. It sent shivers down John's spine and he tilted his head up. Their lips were so close that if either of them moved their head up the slightest bit, they would kiss. It was Sherlock who made the first move.

It was five o'clock by the time John returned home. Sherlock offered to go with him but John refused. He had to do this alone. When he walked through the door, Harry ran to him.

"Oh Johnny!" She hugged him. "I thought you'd never come home! C'mon, mom and dad are waiting in the kitchen. Wait-" she had grabbed John's hand and started to lead him to the living room when she noticed him limping. "Are you limping?"

"It's nothing-"

"Where have you been even?" Harry sighed and her eyes pleaded with John for the truth.

"At Sherlock's. There's this school project and-" John trailed off when he realized lying wouldn't work on Harry.

"You were at Sherlock's and you're limping..." She tilted her head to the side as she thought then covered her mouth as she gasped.

"Sh!" John panicked as Harry stared. A playfully gleam danced in her eyes.

"I never knew you had that in you Johnny! Or rather, that you wanted that in you-"

"Harriet!" John exclaimed and quickly told her a condensed and slightly censored version of what happened that day.

"You're really gonna tell them?" She whispered when John finished. He nodded. Harry looked him with the most sincere look he ever saw and put a hand on his shoulder. She leaned close and looked him dead in the eyes. She smelled like smoke again.

"I'm here for you. I don't know about them but I'll back you up. Hell, I'll even come out to them with you. Might as well get it over with, yeah?" Harry smiled a little and John nodded.

"Let's go," he said.

Two hours later, John sat curled up on his bed. His phone sat next to him and kept buzzing from Sherlock blowing up his phone. But he never answered. He couldn't. His parents' words replayed over and over in his head. And the choice they gave him... He buried his head in his hands. Harriet had already run away to her girlfriend's house but John couldn't find it in himself to move. Finally, after another half hour, a soft tap at his window made John jump a foot in the air.

"Sherlock?" John gasped and quickly let him in. With a strangled sob, John collapsed in Sherlock's arms.

"John. What happened? I've been calling you for over an hour." It took John five minutes to finally calm down before he spoke.

"They gave me a choice. I could either get out of the house and I can never come back, or I can never talk about it again and everything can go back to 'normal,' John said the word harshly.

"Then pack your things."

"Sherlock, Harry already-"

"So let's go."

Later that night, John and Sherlock laid together in silence. John was almost certain Sherlock had fallen asleep and when he was completely sure, he slipped out and ran back to his house.

"I can't believe this, John," Sherlock mumbled and John's heart broke.

"This was the best thing I could negotiate with them. I can't hide who I am and-"

"John-"

"-I need this. You know I do. You know what this means to me, Sherlock!" John ran his hands through his hair and sighed. Sherlock bit his lip and looked away. John had debated with his parents for a long time before they came to an agreement. They would try to accept him being gay but as long as John went away for a while.

"But military school? You're and I both know if you're successful - and you will be - that you are not going to come back. Please John-"

"You know I want this. It was the best halfway point I could manage," John sighed and let Sherlock wrap his arms around him. They stayed like that for a while.

"How long till you leave?"

"Friday." It was Monday now. Sherlock let out a shuddering sigh and John looked up at him.

"Who knows? Maybe we'll meet again someday. I know we will."

"How do you know that?"

"I analyze. You have to learn to look at what's around you, Sherlock."


	4. Chapter 4

John paced back and forth, biting his thumb and looking at the clock. It had been three years since he had seen the man he loved and now the vicious clock seemed intent on extending that time even more. Since John had left that fateful day, he had gone to military school for a few years until he finally got some time off to visit family. He hadn't seen his parents yet, or even Harry. In the dark flat with no sound but the traffic and the clock, John found time to think. Over the years, as he and Sherlock grew up, they had not seen each other often. They sent letters but that was about it. It was nice to stay in touch but eventually the letters dwindled away as they both became busier. The last he heard from Sherlock was two months ago. It was a small letter, nothing more than an address and a key. When he arrived at the airport, he came right to this small flat, used the key Sherlock sent him and was now pacing the floor. The landlady downstairs said that he was out doing something or another but said he could wait. She came back with tea and biscuits then left him on his own. It had been half an hour since then. Suddenly, miraculously, John heard commotion downstairs and stood at attention. Everything in his body zoned in on the muffled voices and picked them apart. One, of course, was Mrs. Hudson, the landlady and the other- John's heart jumped into his throat.

"You let someone into my flat? How could you! They will touch things and mess with everything and-

"Oh Sherlock, be nice. You're going to love what is waiting for you-

"Mrs. Hudson, just stop. I'm not going to like anything that you've done to my-" Sherlock broke off. He had opened the door and now stood in it simply froze. John shuffled on his feet a little bit and coughed, unsure of how to act and wondered how much Sherlock had changed. Sure there were letters but they were meaningless compared to seeing the other in person. It just didn't compare and couldn't tell a story like body language could. Mrs. Hudson though, from behind Sherlock, gave a titter and patted him on the back.

"I'll leave you two alone then. Just don't break anything!" she laughed and hurried downstairs. John guessed that normally Sherlock would have said something rather rude in response to her words but he looked completely stunned and did not seem to register her words. John cleared his throat, opened his mouth to say something but closed it quickly. Sherlock was the first to say something.

"John," he said softly but that was all. For another minute, both men just stared.

"Just come here," John whispered as the tears spilled down his cheeks and Sherlock practically ran at him. He scooped John up into his arms and hugged him as tight as he could. Over the years, John had filled out and grown more muscles but hadn't grown that much in height. He still fit perfectly with Sherlock regardless who somehow had managed to slim out and grow taller to the point where he would almost be considered lanky. With shaky fingers, Sherlock brushed the tears off John's cheek but new ones kept coming. Eventually Sherlock himself cried a little as John wrapped his arms around him, pulling him even closer. John had missed this so much that it hurt. Without saying another word, John grabbed a handful of Sherlock's hair and kissed him. Three years of not being able to kiss or touch Sherlock had been building up inside and now John finally intended to make up for it. Sherlock grabbed the back of John's shirt in return and kissed him back, equally frustrated with his own feelings. As they broke apart for air, Sherlock took the opportunity and pushed John on the couch behind him.

"Welcome home, solider," Sherlock smirked as John blushed. The tears were slowing drying on John's cheeks as Sherlock stripped off his coat and scarf, letting them drop to the floor. Underneath, he wore black pants and a tight purple dress shirt that hugged him in all the right placed. John shifted on the couch with excitement as the bulge in his pants began to push painfully against his jeans. Sherlock noticed and smirked, unbuttoning his own pants. John, feeling as if Sherlock was taking his clothes off slowly on purpose, sat up and started taking off Sherlock's shirt. Sherlock smirked and started to say something but cut off in a short gasp, followed by a moan, as John licked up Sherlock's happy trail.

"John-" Sherlock was able to gasp out as John started to undo his own shirt. It was a little trickier than Sherlock's since it was his military uniform but that wasn't about to stop him. As John took his clothes off, Sherlock tossed his pants and underwear to the floor. Getting a little frustrated with the difficult uniform, John popped the lowest button on his shirt. Sherlock, seeing his distress, climbed on top of John and worked on his pants. Easily taking dominance, Sherlock tugged John's pants off then tossed them away to join his own clothing somewhere on the floor. Sherlock looked down and smirked, kissing a sensitive spot in between his hips.

"Red pants?" Sherlock smirked even more as John's face turned as red as his underwear.

"S-shut up!" John blushed and gasped as Sherlock pulled his underwear off. Over the years, John and Sherlock had been able to mail pictures back and forth of each other and their various parts but even with this, John could see the shock on Sherlock's face as he finally saw John as he was in person for the first time. With a small smile, John reached and stroked Sherlock's cheek. His eyes flashed up and met John's with a mixture of lust and love that was enough to make John twitch. Sherlock looked back down and chuckled as he gently ran a finger up the sensitive underside of John's dick. John's hips bucked up hard as he moaned and pushed his head back into the pillows. Without another word, Sherlock leaned close and licked up the underside, teasing the slit slowly with his tongue. John let out a series of gasp and moans as Sherlock continued teasing him, still not taking him fully into his mouth.

"I can't have you come just yet," Sherlock whispered as he moved up and captured John's lips with his own. John whimpered under the kiss but happily enjoyed the taste of Sherlock's mouth against his. It had been years since they did anything like this and both men where eager to make the most of it.

"Should we take this to the bedroom?" Sherlock gasped as he pulled away. John nodded, unable to say or do much of anything else. Sherlock took his hand and pulled him up, leading him down the hall and into bedroom. With a soft grunt, John found himself pushed back on the bed and he landed on his back. Without wasting another minute, Sherlock pinned John to the bed and latched onto his neck. With a soft bite and suck, Sherlock left a dark mark on the sensitive skin that marked John as his. John stared at Sherlock and as a silent question passed between them. Sherlock's lust-filled eyes softened and he kissed John's forehead.

"We'll go easy," Sherlock whispered, his own nerves starting to get the better of him. John shook his head.

"No. I want you, Sherlock," John tugged at Sherlock's soft, curling locks and practically whimpered as all the feelings collected in his lower stomach. The pressure had increased greatly and John could think of only one thing that could help him. Sensing his need, Sherlock gently pressed his palm to the base of John's stomach, heightening the pressure. John gasped as Sherlock smirked and, with his other hand, stroked John's length. The other male whimpered in pleasure and choked out:/p

"Please, Sherlock!" Sherlock, happy to comply, slid down so he was between John's legs and began to suck him off again. John spread his legs and moaned. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if the landlady could hear them but quite frankly, he didn't really care. After a little bit of that, Sherlock told John to flip over and he did so. He pushed himself up on his knees a bit so his ass was in the air but kept his torso down. Sherlock was still between his legs and cupped both his cheeks in his hands. He gave them a squeeze and spread then wide so he could get a nice view of what laid inside. John trembled and panted as Sherlock examined him. John felt Sherlock exhale deeply before he leaned in and licked up John's crack. The new feeling was so sudden that John jerked and almost pulled away. But Sherlock licked him up again and John found himself moaning breathlessly. Sherlock presented his tongue to the tight muscle and pushed slowly, wiggling his into the entrance a bit. When he was done, Sherlock presented three fingers to John's mouth and commanded:

"Suck," and while John greedily took the digits into his mouth, Sherlock stroked his own length. John turned around a bit and, when he saw Sherlock touch himself, almost lost it. Sherlock bit his lip and moaned, smirking as he saw John watching him. Slowly, as John was distracted, Sherlock inserted one finger into John.

"Ah!" John cried out but bit his lip and tried to calm his breathing. The feeling was more discomfort than pain but still. It shocked him. Gently, Sherlock pumped his finger in and out. Soon, John was relaxed enough for Sherlock's finger to slide in and out without much resistance. Next Sherlock pushed another finger in.

Relax, John," Sherlock whispered into his ear and waited for him to adjust. When he had adjusted enough, Sherlock scissored his fingers and continued to spread and relax the tight muscle. It had been years since the two had done anything like this and John was glad Sherlock was taking his time to get him accustomed to the feeling again. John found it a bit harder to get used to but Sherlock was careful and didn't mind taking the time to get John ready. By now, John was panting and almost writhing under Sherlock's touch. Finally, Sherlock spread his two fingers wide and slid the third finger in. Sherlock nipped and licked John's ear as the solider relaxed to the stretching of his entrance.

"Ready?" Sherlock asked as he slid his fingers out. John whimpered at the lost but nodded and shifted so his legs were spread wider. He waited and tried to relax as much as he could as Sherlock held his hips and lined himself up. Carefully he pushed in and John's back arched. He bit his lip hard enough that it split to keep himself from crying out. Breathing hard, John tried to relax and get used to the old feeling. It took a minute or two but finally John calmed down and nodded, signaling Sherlock to start moving. He was slow at first, but, as both men grew accustomed to the feel of it, Sherlock grew bolder. He thrust harder, faster and tried to hit a new a spot every time. Eventually, he found John's prostrate. With a delicious cry of pleasure, John's back arched even higher as he gripped the sheets even tighter. Sherlock moaned along with John as the other tightened around him, making it harder to hold on. John was near his limit as well. After a few more hard thrusts, John tossed his head back and was thrown over the edge. Sherlock followed a few thrusts later and came deep inside John. The two collapsed on the bed, coming down from the high of sex, Sherlock carefully pulled out and turned on his side next to John. They both were shaking and trying to catch their breath as John scooted closer to Sherlock, curling up with him. Exhausted and happy beyond belief, John found himself laughing.

"Why are you laughing?" Sherlock smiled as John covered his mouth in an attempt to stop but he couldn't.

"Because this is all so amazing. We're finally together after three years."

"Until you have to-"

"Sherlock if you ruin this moment I swear I will kill you," John's hand clamped down over Sherlock's mouth as Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Fine, fine. I won't ruin the moment," Sherlock removed John's hand and chuckled softly. He ran his hand through John's hair and kissed him gently. John swore he could never have been happier in that moment. They would have to take a shower as well but John couldn't find it in himself to move. They would have to do it in the morning. Right now, John wanted to live in this moment forever.

"You're staying a while, right?" Sherlock whispered after a bit of silence.

"Of course. This is perfect," John smiled. After a few minutes of silence, John found himself drifting.

"Sherlock?" John whispered, his voice rough and deep with sleep.

"Hm?" Sherlock was close to sleep as well.

"If I fall asleep, don't wake me up."


End file.
